


Past the Bungalow, Right Home

by starrelia (orphan_account)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Sibling Incest, Snow, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 19:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13014471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/starrelia
Summary: Genji stays with Hanzo at the Shimada castle for a few weeks, even as it snows in and they both have to use heaters because the castle itself does not even provide it to them. An old place, barely upgraded save to have electrical sockets so that they can have actual heating or fans during winter or summer, or what have you. He stays with him, because that is what lovers do; support one another, even through difficult times.But really, now, Genji just wants them to leave the castle already.





	Past the Bungalow, Right Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I posted something to AO3 before tumblr? Unheard of. I tried to experiment with my writing style with this fic, so I hope you liked it.

A beautiful morning shone through, an unexpected sight given the horrific snowstorm of last night; noisy, might Genji add, and very much cold as it slammed up against the walls of the Shimada castle. There really isn’t much protection against the elements when the castle has not been upgraded in years; and my gods, has it not been barely upgraded! Even the additions added to it may as well have been negligible, even if they did allow the additions of electric fans and little heaters to keep everyone from freezing to death or boiling overboard.

Basic commodities that will have been supplied by every other modern house, even those meant to ape that of castles. Perhaps it is his misfortune that he lives – has lived with such a traditional family, gone now that they are. His arms cross in front of him as he stares out at the beautiful sun that cannot even melt through the snow that has build up; a good fifteen centimetre, or six inch as the Americans would like to think.

Not even a snowflake falls this morning; clouds have all but fled, steering clear of the ever glorious, cold sun… not that it can be felt on his skin, of course, but it is still there; ever present, glowing bright yellow, and Genji stares up at it through visor-vision and quiet appreciation of that which he has not noticed for years. It is a beautiful big ball, that sun is, and Genji is sure that if he has had any of the poetic blood that Hanzo does that he will have waxed on and on about the splendiferous sun.

His arms uncross and he steps outside, kicks away snows on the wooden floorboards and stairs, lets his feet and legs sink as deep as they can into the snow, and Genji places his hands upon his hips as he surveys the white blanket before him. A part of him wants to turn on the temperature sensors of his body; to feel the cold striking harsh against him, but he quickly decides against it when memories of what it _actually_ feels like hit him harder than the cold ever will.

Perhaps at a different time, Genji hastily tells himself, when he is feeling far more nostalgic than he does now. Out in the snow, a stark grey, makes him feel childish once more, an urge to scoop up snowballs to throw out and see how far they can go overwhelming him the more he stands in the thick cushions of white.

But his brother will wake up soon, and Genji does not have any desire to leave him alone that way. He turns around and trudges through the snow with a difficulty unneeded, but played up nonetheless, shakes the snow off his legs, and then makes his way over to the room that his brother is sleeping in… and that he, himself, is supposed to sleep with Hanzo as well.

For this his sensors are on, a pleasant heat hitting him and Genji sighs in relief before they are turned off once more. Quietly, he steps his way over to where his brother is lying down and he sits, cross-legged, before him while he rests. A quick check of the clock tells him that it is five-thirty in the morning, a good time to still be resting if one isn’t as automated as Genji is.

Well, not that it bothers him; he enjoys being able to sleep late and wake up whenever he wants, refreshed as ever, and not having to worry about consequences. A perk to being a mix of human and omnic, and Genji leans back against the wall while he waits. After a moment or so, he fiddles about with his helmet and throws it away to a corner in the room with a quiet thunk, his hair a messy sprawl and he scratches at his cheek.

Without the howling of winds outside, the brief fall of hail, it is ever so quiet here. Boredom quickly settles in him and he moves about to lay on his back, his legs against the wall as he stretches them up high. His arms reach out, body bending a bit to try and poke at the tips of his feet, and Genji sighs. Whatever stretch and ache he wishes to feel is gone, replaced by…

“What ever are you doing, Genji?” Hanzo’s voice cuts through his thoughts; a welcome piercing thing as Genji tilts his head back to look at his awake brother settled on an elbow, chin resting on his palm while his free hand spreads his fingers out in front of him. “You look as ridiculous as your youth.”

“We’re not that old, brother,” says Genji, “if anything, you could do well with acting like your thirties and not like an old man. Look at your hair, it’s all white, and aged. You almost look like papa Noelle, all like that.” The only response he gets is a grouchy grumble and glare, Hanzo’s arm sliding out so that he may rest his head in the crook of his elbow and Genji lets go of his own feet to instead spread his arms up behind him. “You’re up early, it’s only a quarter to six.”

Hanzo eyes him warily before he reaches to tuck one of his own strands of messy, puffy hair behind his ears, away from his face, so that he may look a bit more presentable before he speaks: “This is the only time I have been able to sleep well. What of you, why are you awake so early? How long have you been awake?”

Genji smiles; it looks odd, for sure, upside down like that with his brother staring at him right side up. He tries his best to wave at Hanzo, ignoring the way his fingertips tap against the wooden floors, and Genji’s smile extends to that of a big grin when he gets a small smile in response to his behaviours. “Well,” says Genji, “sleep is more of an accessory, really, at best I sit on the floor and wait for my body to stop using stuff up too much.”

“Stuff?” Hanzo asks. “Is that the technical term for it now? Stuff?” His words are soft enough to lay down on, and Genji’s eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement. His brother’s hair splays around them, his hand extending out to grab at Genji’s now that he has stopped waving and, gladly, he intertwines his fingers with Hanzo’s. “I ought to talk to the ones who made you so that I know better, then, how to help you if you are this technical about it.”

A shrug, his eyes avert away from Hanzo’s to instead stare at the mismatch of their hands. Genji can only count his blessings, thank God above for this miracle that let him be, still; who else can have the same amount of tremendous luck as Genji does? Well, save for Lena, of course, her luck is greater than his; but is hers truly luck, when it is the perseverance and hope of Winston that has him create the accelerator?

Perhaps he shall count his blessings and his luck to be able to stumble upon those truly dedicated enough to try and save the lives of others. “What are you thinking of?” he looks up at Hanzo, takes in the way his brows furrow, and Genji lets go of his hand so that he may push away and roll onto his belly, facing Hanzo proper now.

“Nothing, brother.” Genji says. “Have you considered wearing lipstick, Hanzo? It’d fit your lip very well, lipstick that is. Preferably, I think red lipstick would be nice on you—”

“I see your inability to share your thoughts has not left you, Genji.”

“Has it ever left you?” he argued.

There is a second pause. Hanzo’s mouth opens, and then closes again. A four second pause, this time, really getting into the meat of thinking. Pinkness spreads across Hanzo’s cheeks. “I suppose it has not left me either.”

“Then until you deal with your introvertedness, I will have my own bit of introversy as well.” Genji snorts, his arms crossing underneath him while he holds himself up to stare into his brother’s eyes. “Understood, brother?”

“ _Neither_  of those words that you have just used are real words.” Hanzo bemoans. “And I am not as introverted as you say I am, brother.”

Genji smirks, a smirk that makes Hanzo groan as it has many times before; a smirk that says, very clearly, he has won, even if there is nothing to win, and really Hanzo will argue that he has won nothing. A smirk so smug, he is sure that Hanzo has actually punched him once just to wipe it off his face. Genji has punched him back, then.

Soon enough, the smirk falls off of its own accord as Genji asks, “when are we going to leave here, brother?” Hanzo’s light expression falls as well at that. Discomfort settles heavy on his face like a boulder on his back and Genji peers at him, patiently, as Hanzo tries to think up of an answer to what Genji wants of him.

“I… I do not know. I have come here so often I… Genuinely, I don’t know what to do anymore, and I don’t know if I can leave.”

“But you know, now, I am alive.”

Hanzo sobers a little at that. “I suppose that that there is no more a reason for me to be here, then.” He looks over at doorway at which Genji’s shrine is supposed to be at, where he has visited for the past ten years trying to make amends, and gazes on back to the brother who has returned to him. “Then… I will try set my past aside.

“What is it that you wish for me to do brother? You said that you wanted me to join you and some sort of… organisation?”

With that, Genji smiles a smile so wide, his upper lip – still flesh – pulls back to reveal still-perfect teeth. A smile so wide, that it unsettles Hanzo who looks at him warily. A smile so wide, that it is wholly uncharacteristic of who Genji is, as a person.

 

 

 

 

 

“Tell me, anija. Have you heard of Talon before?”

**Author's Note:**

> If you did like this, please let me know what you thought of it!


End file.
